Checkmate
by Pixel Mouse
Summary: School psychologist Arthur Kirkland attempts to break through what a series of tragedies has done to Alfred Jones with nothing more than a few games of chess.
1. Called to the Office

**Hey everyone! Thanks for reading. As a general disclaimer for this and future chapters: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya and the characters in here are not meant to represent actual countries in the real world: only the manga characters. Enjoy.**

Alfred could only recall a handful of situations that led him to be called to the front office in school.

When he was six years old, he fell down in the mud and needed a change of clothes.

A few years later, he was attacked by a rather indignant Canada Goose. The nurse had a good laugh.

During Alfred's first month of middle school, he decided to set off a stink-bomb in the locker room. The principal found out.

When he was fourteen, his first year in high school, he joined the marching band and somehow wound up getting his head stuck in a tuba. The nurse there had a good laugh as well. So did the fire department.

So that would make this the fifth time then, right? In the four previous times, he had learned to expect the snickers and the "_oooh what did you do now"_s from his classmates. Annoying as it was, he did his best smile, avoid grimacing, and go to the office to take care of...what exactly? He hadn't gotten into any trouble lately. At least none that he could think of. What did they want with him now?

He opened the office door tentatively, the only thing alerting the secretary of his presence being the loud creaking of the hinges.

The secretary looked up and smiled sympathetically before putting up a finger for him to wait while she finished up her phone call. From the look she was wearing, it was probably a relentless parent complaining over a trivial problem that the secretary - was Mrs. Brown her name? - had no control over.

Alfred looked around the room awkwardly, from the clock ticking, to the goldfish lazily gobbling at the surface of the water in a fishtank pushed up against the back wall. The main office wasn't small, but it was pathetically empty. Industrial tiles that were once white, but had long ago faded to a bright gray with little flecks of purple-blue and beige covered the floor along with a far too small welcome mat that was in surprisingly good condition. There were a few small windows, some metal folding chairs for people waiting for assistance, and blue plaster walls.

"Sorry about that," the secretary said, sighing and shaking her head at the phone. "You can go on back now."

Alfred craned his neck to look down the office hallway behind her. "Go where?" There was the nurse's office, the counselor's office, the meeting room, and a multitude of other rooms.

"They didn't tell you?"

Alfred shook his head.

"The school psychologist's office. Third door on the right."

"The _what?" _Alfred sputtered. The _psychologist!? _"No. No way." he shook his head vigorously. "Not happening."

"I'm sorry ," the secretary said, face hardening slightly although she kept her calm tone, "but Mr. Kirkland called for you specifically."

Alfred stood there for a moment, fuming and considering just flat out leaving. "Fine," he muttered finally, and walked back to the third door on the right. He didn't even knock, just burst into the office.

A man with ruffled blonde hair and thick eyebrows, which in Alfred's opinion were several years overdue for a trim, was sitting at a cheap desk, writing.

"It's customary to knock, Mr. Jones," he said without looking up.

"My name is Alfred," he said, pulling out a beaten-up folding metal chair and flopping onto it unceremoniously on the other side of the desk.

Mr. Kirkland pursed his lips, clearly annoyed, but said nothing. "Listen Alfred, it's my job to-"

"So what, do you think I'm crazy or something?" Alfred burst, cutting the psychologist off.

"_Listen_ !" Arthur said. Alfred opened his mouth to correct the name, but the next thing out of his psychologist's mouth silenced him in an instant.

"I called you here to talk to you about the loss of your mother." Arthur looked up at the student, who had paled a few shades, to make sure he wouldn't interrupt again. "Alfred, it's my job to check up on students in your situation. So how are you?"

"Me? Oh I'm fine!" The student's face transformed into a bright, well known, smiling shield. His eyes said something else though: _please buy this. _Arthur didn't even for a second.

"This is a safe place you know." Arthur gestured to the room: a pretty bland thing with the only windows being a thin strip of glass at the top of the room too small to see out of, as well as a small blue rug, the desk, a low bookshelf, and a file cabinet were the only furnishings. The plaster walls were cracked in several places.

"Dude; I'm fine."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned his computer monitor towards his student.

"Your grades suggest otherwise."

Yes; it was true. Ever since his loss, Alfred's grades had plummeted. He had never been able to get straight A's. It was mostly B's, with a good amount of A's. There was the occasional C, but he had never gotten a D. He had never even _imagined _getting a failing grade in a class before. Nevertheless, D's and F's had been thrown across his report card.

"The, uh," Alfred reached up and adjusted his glasses nervously. "Umm. The classes got harder."

"You were excelling in them a month ago."

Alfred shrugged, his half-convincing smile wavering for a moment.

"I can get them back to normal. Don't worry about me." He gave Mr. Kirkland a thumbs up and stood to leave.

Arthur sighed, deciding not to push his luck. He knew when a student wasn't going to talk.

"Do you need a pass back to class?"

Alfred shook his head. "No. I have a free period right now."

Arthur couldn't help but smirk at his sour expression. Most sixteen year olds would love to have a free period. "Where do you go for your free period?"

"Library with some friends." Alfred shifted from foot to foot, anxious to leave.

"You like to read?" Arthur asked, surprised. Alfred didn't strike him as an avid reader.

"No. That's why it's boring."

The psychologist chuckled lightly under his breath. "Would you by any chance be able to come see me after school some days?"

Alfred shook his head. "I have chess club."

Arthur did his best to hide his surprise. " Very well. You're free to go."

Alfred left without another word.

* * *

><p>The sixth time Alfred was called to the office was not two weeks later: a week or so until Thanksgiving.<p>

Once again, he walked past his snickering "friends" and was directed to Arthur's depressingly bland office.

The computer had been pushed off to the side and in the middle of the desk sat a chess board. It was a nice one too: marble pieces and a marble board set into a wooden frame.

Alfred raised his eyebrows.

"You said you were in chess club and that you didn't have a class this period?"

Arthur got a hesitant nod in return.

"Good then. Sit down. Lets play."

"Why?" Alfred asked skeptically, dragging a chair up with a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard.

"You're failing all but one of your classes. I've found this game to improve focus. Not to mention that you've got to talk at some point if you're going to be playing chess every day."

Alfred just frowned, jaw set and arms folded across his chest, staring before eventually reaching stiffly over the desk and moving a pawn forward two squares.

"Your move."

**Alright, so there's chapter one. More chapters will be up soon. To anyone following my stories, yes, a very similar one was posted briefly with different characters, but I got several requests to write it from this perspective. Any feedback would be very much appreciated! Thanks again for reading. :)**


	2. Two More Moves

**Chapter Two!**

"Checkmate," Arthur said monotonously, smirking as he moved his bishop over, cornering Alfred's king.

Alfred studied the board for a moment, leaning down to eye level with the pieces before promptly flicking his king over and beginning to put the pieces back in the box.

"The game isn't over yet Alfred." Arthur said quietly, setting Alfred's king back up and putting the pieces Alfred had cleaned up back.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I lost. There's nothing else to it."

"But the game isn't over. There are still two more moves left."

Alfred rolled his eyes but complied. He moved a pawn in between his king and Arthur's bishop, which still left the king open to be attacked by Arthur's knight, which took the king on the next move."

"Happy?" Alfred asked, rather agitated.

"Yes," Arthur replied, albit smugly. He thought he heard his student mutter something along the lines of "sentimental old fool" under his breath as he packed his bag to go to his next class. "What was that?"

Alfred looked up him, resembling a deer caught in the headlights of a car for a brief moment.

"Oh. Um. Nothing."

"No, you most definitely said something." Arthur smiled, playing with him now. Alfred had stayed silent the entire chess game, appearing to be lost in concentration, although having seen Alfred before the loss of his mother, he doubted that was the case. It was time to start employing other tactics. Would humor, perhaps, get him to talk?

"Nothing. Just that the chess club never played it that way. They quit at checkmate."

"Yes, well its been a while since I've played, but I do believe those are the _official _rules."

"Why make me play past that point then. I had already lost."

"Only you hadn't." Arthur placed the last chess piece in it's place in the box.

"Well I was _going _to. What's the point?"

Arthur shrugged. He'd let Alfred think about that one for the next few days. Not to mention that he didn't exactly know why himself.

"Alfred. You know you can come talk to me about anything, right?"

The sixteen year old snorted. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind British dude." His tone was heavy with sarcasm and Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm serious Alfred. It's not healthy to keep your emotions all bottled up like that."

The teen shook his head. "You know you sound like an overdramatic teenage-"

"Alfred!" Arthur interrupted, a bit more harshly than he originally intended. The student fell silent and Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "I went to college for eight years studying psychology. I can see these things."

Alfred still seemed skeptical.

"No matter Alfred. You can go now if you wish. Meet me back here for your free period tomorrow."

"I have to come here again _tomorrow?"_ he whined.

"And every day thereafter."

"You've got to be kidding me." The teen looked at his school psychologist with just that: a look of disbelief. "When can I actually _have a free period? _You know, _like I'm supposed to?"_

"As soon as you bring your grades up Mr. Jones."

Alfred stifled the urge to scowl and marched out of the office.

* * *

><p>Alfred was used to being the center of attention. He loved it: the way everyone knew him, how everyone cared, the way people looked up to him.<p>

And then _that _had happened. A car crash. Just a simple mistake of not looking clearly enough before making a left turn. And that had been it.

Alfred was used to being the center of attention, but never like _this. _Never had he had strangers coming up to him to apologize, or to say things like "I can imagine what you must be going through." No. No; they couldn't imagine, so why would they bother even saying that? It annoyed him to no end. On the other hand, the people who tried to lift his spirits by pretending nothing had happened were even worse. Something _had _happened. Something _big. _Ignoring that was just downright disrespectful to his mother.

His grades were another matter entirely. Why did they keep dropping? He tried everything, but they kept falling. His highest grade was a C, and that was just one class. The others were Ds and Fs. He just didn't understand it. He was studying harder and getting _lower _grades. What was he supposed to do?

Deep down, he knew that he should tell Arthur about all this. But the thought of someone rooting around in his head, pulling out it's most guarded content was just… sickening. His mind and his happy-go-lucky attitude were his, and he would never relinquish them.

Ever.

* * *

><p>Arthur got up to change out the glasses collecting the rainwater that were leaking through the ceiling in his office. It had only started raining a half hour ago and already he had to go do this three times already. He frowned.<p>

The school had run out of money. A long time ago, in fact. The ceilings leaked, the walls were cracked, they only had wobbly metal chairs that made his back ache, and the latest development: they had started laying off staff members.

He remembered his old school. It wasn't rich, but it was very nice. This environment wasn't suitable for learning. He had already killed more cockroaches and trapped more mice in his office than he cared to think about, and the leaky ceilings were starting to grow mold in some places.

Arthur sighed, setting down a new glass in a new place where the ceiling began to drip. There wasn't much he could do about the situation. Only worry about his students, or as the case was right then, _student._

And worry he would.

**Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited chapter one! Chapter three will be up by Sunday at the very latest. Any reviews or feedback are greatly appreciated!**


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